


A Cozy Inferno

by keyboardclicks



Series: "Men at Some Time are Masters of Their Fates" [4]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, nothing graphic I'm just being cautious, rated t for mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 22:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10259711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyboardclicks/pseuds/keyboardclicks
Summary: It's a late night at the Albany, and Raffles convinced Bunny to stay the night."I would hate to impose the use of your sofa.""When did I say anything about making you sleep on the sofa?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rafflesweek prompt 4: "Partners in Amusement"

“Well, I suppose I should be going back to Mount Street.”

It was the early hours of the morning when I rose from my seat near the Albany fireplace.  Raffles and I had for hours sat in each other’s company, talking and sharing stories, recounting tales from our school days.  Mine were much less pleasant than Raffles’, save for those which involved him.  When the hour stuck a quarter past two, I thought it time to leave.

“Nonsense,” Raffles insisted, discarding his sullivan into the dying embers of the fire.  “It’s a vile cold outside, rabbit.  Simply stay the night; that’s the smart thing.  I’ll lend you a dressing gown.”

“It’ll be awfully big on me.”

His only response was a shrug as he rose, stretching his arms above him so that his form reminded me of a cat, graceful and strong.

“I can just return home,” I repeated.  “Really, I’d hate to be a bother and make use of your sofa.”  Though it was early into our partnership, less than three months perhaps, the only times I had stayed in Raffles’ rooms overnight were those on which we partook in one of our illicit activities, and by this I do not mean theft.  A crime it may have been, but the one I speak of I will not call it terrible.  Perverse, if I must apply to it an adjective.

“When did I say anything about making you sleep on the sofa?” Raffles asked.  I was in the doorway of his bedroom now, watching him retrieve two pairs of pajamas from a dresser and begin himself to change.  “The bed’s big enough for two, as we both well know.”

Blush immediately rose to my cheeks, not aided by the fact that Raffles was quickly undressing in front of me, and though I had seen his body before it still flustered me in such a seemingly intimate context.

However I saw in his gaze no hint of lecherous intentions, especially as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes with his hands.  I then felt embarrassed, however, at having made an unwarranted assumption, and so continued to blush even as I accepted the dressing gown he offered to me.  As I had predicted it was far above my size and hung on me more like a bathrobe than a simple dressing gown.

“So long as you don’t have a habit of sleepwalking I’m not familiar with I don’t think it should be a problem,” Raffles chuckled.  “But if you do, do try to avoid tripping into the fireplace.”  Having said that, my friend remembered he hadn’t yet placed the grate in front of it, and so went to do so.  Unsure of what to do I folded my clothes and set them atop a chair for the next day, knowing how forgetting to do so could result in an unwantedly unkempt appearance the next day.  I was still not in the bed when Raffles returned.

“You needn’t stand on ceremony, Bunny,” he laughed.  “I don't think there _is_ ceremony for this sort of thing.  We’re both tired; should both sleep if we’re to do anything at all tomorrow.”

I was thankful that the only light in the room came from a small oil lamp beside Raffles bed so that I was almost completely in shadow and he could not see my still flushed face.  Upon his latest comment I climbed into the bed and lay down, facing away from him so as to hide my embarrassment.  I was not even sure why I was embarrassed; if I had shared his bed with him after we made love, why did doing so without it feel so strange?

“Well, goodnight, Bunny,” said Raffles cheerfully, turning out the oil lamp and laying down himself.

“Goodnight, Raffles,” I said in reply.

But I did not sleep.  I lay there for a time, still flushed and anxious and unsure of why I so.  The bed was comfortable, even more comfortable than my own bed in Mount Street, and yet I was restless.  When Raffles breathing changed to the rhythm of sleep I slowly turned onto my other side, afraid of waking him.  I faced his back and focused on the slight rise and fall of each breath he took, hoping perhaps the steady rhythm would lull me into slumber, but it did not.

I thought of the other nights I had slept in Raffles bed, pushing away the sexual thoughts for fear of unwanted side-effects and focusing only on the aftermath, of how I would each time drift to sleep still pressed against Raffles or in his arms or some other intimate position.  That was what I wanted, I realized; it felt wrong to be with Raffles in his bed not because we had not been together that night as we had all others, but because the boundaries of personal space seemed so cleanly cut and impossible to cross.  It felt wrong to be with Raffles in his bed when we were not touching, not together, as if there was a glass wall between the two of us through which I could see him, but not touch.

Without thinking I reached out, crossing that invisible and imaginary boundary and clutching in my fingers the back of his pyjama shirt.  He didn’t stir.  Not allowing myself further time to think I crossed the bed until his back and my front were only inches away, so that I could feel his warmth.  Still without any response from Raffles I lay my arm across his waist with the covers separating us and moved closer until we were touching, closing my eyes tight and hoping he would not wake and tell me to go back out to the sofa after all.

He did not.  The even pace of his breath did not even change.  I flushed with embarrassment alone in the dark still unknowing why I did so and being more relieved than I could ever recall that there was nobody to witness it.

My eyes remained closed and I soon found my breathing matching that of the man next to me, a slow and steady pace fit only for the realm of dreams.  I wondered what Raffles would think if he woke and found me draped over him as such, but I doubted he would be so cruel to wake and reprimand me.  So I chanced not to worry, and simply let my friend’s warmth and strong, even breathing help carry me off to sleep.


End file.
